


Everyone Has a Story

by bossy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood Gulch Chronicles, M/M, Mention of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossy/pseuds/bossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Around here, everyone has a story about summer,” Grif says. He and Simmons are supposed to be on patrol, but really they’re lounging in the common area of Red Base, trading stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Has a Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rvb60min on tumblr, so I wrote and edited this in one hour. Prompt: "Around here, everyone has a story about summer."

“Around here, everyone has a story about summer,” Grif says. He and Simmons are supposed to be on patrol, but really they’re lounging in the common area of Red Base, trading stories.

“Everybody does not,” Simmons says. He pushes Grif playfully.

“Does too,” Grif says. “Sarge told me this story about how he worked on a farm in Iowa and met this mysterious woman, the love of his life probably, but she disappeared at the end of the summer.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean? She disappeared. That’s it. Donut, ugh, Donut told me this story about how one summer he worked for an underground cockfighting ring. You can imagine where that went. Lots of men grabbing their cocks.”

“Ugh,” Simmons echoes. “What about you, then, fatass? What’s your summer story?”

“I was 16,” Grif says wistfully. “It was my first summer job. I was a camp counselor, which means I got to sit around and do nothing while all the kids earned badges. Everything was perfect. And then it happened.”

“What?” Simmons asks, learning a little closer.

“They demoted me to working in the kitchen. Those losers couldn’t see my talent.”

Simmons scoffs, and Grif shoots him a look.

“ _Anyway._  I was in charge of stocking the shelves, then helping to cook everyone’s meals, which meant I sat around and shouted out orders to the other cooks. Best job I ever had. Except they’d always make me wake up at six in the morning to make breakfast. Never heard of letting a guy get his beauty sleep.”

“You could use a little more of that, fatso,” Simmons says.

“Shut up,” Grif says. “So this one morning, I’m the only guy in the kitchen. Then we get this delivery. It’s an entire truckload of chocolate eclairs, Simmons. An  _entire truckload.”_

 “How did I know this would involve food somehow?” Simmons asks, sighing. “So let me guess. You ate them all.”

“Yep,” Grif says. “Every last one. I thought I’d get away with it, too. Told the camp the food company shorted them. Only I kept telling my friends the real story. Turned into a kinda camp celebrity.”

This gets Simmons’ attention. “ _What?_ People liked you?”

Grif shrugs. “Most people like me. It’s just Sarge who decided I’m uncool. Too bad you can’t meet my friends back home. See, they like me, but they’d think you were a giant nerd.”

“Thanks,” Simmons says, bitterly. “The thing is, I don’t have any friends back home to introduce you to.”

“Oh,” Grif says.

“My dad wouldn’t let me make friends,” Simmons continues. “He barely let me leave the house. You know why I’m so good at math? It’s because he made me practice constantly. That’s why I joined the UNSC right after high school. I’m glad I got out when I did.”

“Oh,” Grif says again.

“It’s not a big deal,” Simmons says, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Just don’t tell Sarge or Donut. Or Lopez. Well, I guess you can tell Lopez.”

“My lips are sealed,” Grif says. “But you have to at least have a good summer memory, right?”

“Actually, yeah,” Simmons says, and he smiles. “Last summer was the best summer of my life. I’ll always remember it.”

“What? You were just here with me last summer. All we did was stand around and talk every day.”

“Yeah,” Simmons says, meeting Grif’s eyes. “Exactly.”

“Uh,” Grif says, and he flushes red. “This is getting a little touchy-feely for me. You might want to talk to Donut about this instead.”

“Oh, shut up,” Simmons says. “You know you love me.”

“You know what? I think I do,” Grif says, and he takes Simmons’ hand.

**Author's Note:**

> literallytex.tumblr.com


End file.
